


I Will Deliver

by d__T



Series: put me to the test [2]
Category: Blood Drive (TV), Falling Skies
Genre: Anal Sex, I spent so long looking at this its awful, M/M, Oral Sex, Safer Sex, Threesome - M/M/M, feelings are complicated, still in the falling skies universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 08:52:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16014518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/d__T/pseuds/d__T
Summary: Rasher barges into the Falling Skies universe to rescue Julian but first: shenanigans that leave John even more confused.





	1. Chapter 1

The sky flicks a dirty red, like another world screaming for mercy through the divide. Julian feels something that he didn’t even know he was missing- the comforting pull of the Scar on his very being. And then it’s gone again, the sky as dark as it ever gets.

Travelling at night is riskier now. Not because wolves have returned to the area, but because making heat and sound and light is like asking God to snipe you from on high. And  _if_ he notices, he will level you and the surrounding block.

Julian fires up the motorcycle.

 

 

“Julian?” The voice from up in the branches is quiet and carries far more caution than it usually does. “Up here.”

Julian flicks his light toward the sound, expecting to see Rasher’s eyes glow but he only catches the glitter of the studs on his jacket.

“ _ow_.” Rasher hisses, cringing back from the light. “Fuck you.”

“Come down here. Let me see you.” Julian commands.

Rasher is more related to stick insects than squirrels and falls from his perch in the tree, bemoaning this bastard world the whole way down.

Julian yanks him up to his feet and Rasher turns it into a full body hug. He mutters into the side of Julian’s head. “Missed you.”

Julian laughs, delighted. “I have been up to such antics, darling. You would _not_ imagine.”

“M _mm_.” Rasher kisses Julian’s temple. “Not for-real dead, is all that matters.”

“How long has it been?”

“Three weeks.”

“Bout four here.” Julian says casually. “I fucked my way into power.”

Rasher freezes, and Julian feels like a live brand in his arms. “Did you now.”

Julian has to stand on his toes to press conciliatory kisses to Rasher’s cheeks and lips. “He looks just like me, if I was a hillbilly instead of a lab grown freak. I want you to meet him- he’s very entertaining.”

Rasher slides his fingers through the grown-out short hair on the back of Julian’s head. Holds his skull tightly, pulls his head to the side. Julian lets him, basking in the force.

Rasher settles his teeth around the column of Julian’s neck, right under his ear. Julian presses into it, but Rasher stays still, tight and controlled.

Julian runs his hand from Rasher’s chest, down over the edge of the corset- it’s the leather paneled one, as much armor as it is decorative- to his belly. He pushes like he would feed his own hand to Rasher’s maw if he was allowed.

Rasher breathes, rough and square and Julian expects a growl but there  _isn’t_ -

“-Wait!”

Rasher’s teeth scrape his skin as he withdraws. Julian desperately pats Rasher’s belly as if he’ll be able to feel anything through the corset. “Where-?”

“It’s gone. I can’t see in the dark anymore, either, which  _super sucks_ .”

“When?” Julian demands, now trying to slide a hand up under the corset.

“When I came through the portal, I think. I’m a garden variety monster again.” Rasher says. “As much as I’d _love_ to remind you who you belong to right now, you should take me back to wherever you’ve been staying ‘cause the woods _suck_.”

Julian grins wide and pleased. “Right this way!”

 

 

“I’d forgotten how cute you were with brown eyes.”

Rasher scrunches his nose up. “Only you would find this carefully cultivated disaster of a face _cute_.”

Julian fondly rubs his thumb over the ivy leaf tattooed in the center of the labyrinth on Rasher’s cheek. “Mm.”

Rasher nuzzles into his hand. “I don’t have the maw but I’ve still got the hunger. Like a rat digging in the back of my skull.”

Julian grunts. “I’ll get you fed when we get back. This body is about worthless anyway.”

“You’re so generous, giving me your recycling.” Rasher rolls his eyes before kissing him. 

“So he looks like you.” Rasher prompts idly, like he has not real interest in the situation. “Your _lover_.”

Julian pats Rasher. “Darling, you know I don’t know how to love.”

“That’s false; you love yourself.”

“That is true.” Julian says without conceding anything.

“You suck.” Rasher complains.

Julian grins. “Sometimes.”

“ _oh my god_.” Rasher swats at him. “Tell me about him so I can decide if I’m gonna be jealous about it or turned on by it. And then,” Rasher says, forestalling Julian’s protest, “you’re gonna suck me off because I deserve at least that much for being stuck in a goddamn tree.”

“Is that so?” Julian grins, petting him affectionately. “That’s what I like about you; you know what you want.”

“Yes.” Rasher says abruptly. And then clearly does not say something else.

“Very well then.” Julian’s stretched this joke far enough and Rasher is perfectly capable of yanking them to their home world unilaterally. He briefly contemplates how he’s going to explain it one last time and then abandons it. “He’s sweet and smart enough to get into trouble. This world needs him but they don’t know why and they hate it.”

Julian prods Rasher until he can lie half on Rasher’s back. “He thinks he’s a bad man but really he’s got different priorities than everyone else.”

“Mm.”

“He’s got long hair and it spills across his shoulders so nicely.” Julian noses the bare skin between Rasher’s shoulders. “He’s a little less built than myself, being all organic, and he’s got a really cute dick.”

Rasher twitches.

“Don’t lie to me, you’re into it.”

“And yet, I’m repressing the urge to break all of your finger bones for fucking another man anyway. Even though we agreed on it.” Rasher says flatly. “You’re an idiot.”

Julian blinks, not that Rasher can see it.

“The only reason we are still here is because I am curious, yes.” Rasher continues with frustration. “But that doesn’t mean I’m just gonna be okay with all of it.”

“Oh.”

“ _yeah._ ” Rasher grunts.

“He’s easily spooked.” Julian says after a while. “I missed you.”

“Thanks.” Rasher says. Then, “Come here.”

Julian does and Rasher turns him into the little spoon. He gets the feeling that they both miss Rasher’s tentacles right now. After a while, Rasher mutters, “Tell me about his dick.”

Julian obliges, “It’s really cute-”

Rasher interrupts. “You can’t just call a guy’s dick cute, they don’t like that.”

“Stop interrupting me.” Julian continues. “-he’s fragile about it; you can’t treat him like me.”

“oh.”

And then Julian explains it all.

 

* * *

It’s midday when John hears the low surge of his Harley roll up outside. He is most tempted to go out and, well, greet Julian but if he has to explain to Lyle that he’s checking in on his bike and  _not_ a high school girl with a crush… Before he rises, the doors to The Nest bang open, and Julian strides in.

John notices two things: the glorious aura of a bright red gas can looking heavy enough to be full slung over Julian’s shoulder, and the beanpole of a man at his other shoulder like an obedient dog.

Julian chirps, “Look what I found!”

“Oh _no_.” John says, slapping his architecture book shut. “No, no _no_. Put it back.”

He thinks he knows who that is, and he explicitly didn’t want this. Also, Julian has terrible taste, what the fuck is that guy wearing? A leather jacket  _and_ a corset.

Julian strides towards him, dangling the gas can at him like a dog treat. “This? I recall you wanted it.”

“No,  _him_.”

Julian plonks the gas can down in front of him. It sounds delightfully heavy. “I have a proposition for you.”

The tall man’s face is covered in tattoos and he’s looking at John like he’s got missile lock. John doesn’t like it one bit. “I don’t want your proposition.”

“Aw, I thought we were past the hostility.”

John sees that Julian’s eyeliner isn’t as smudged as usual- either a tighter hand applied it or it’s fresh- and there’s a fresh scrape on his neck leading down under his collar. Not a wound, but intimate-

And he knows how fast Julian heals, so that must be  _fresh_ .

He’s burning inside, angry enough to choke.

“You sure know how to make a man feel special, bringing your boyfriend around.” John snarls. “What am I, your mistress?”

Damn his reckless mouth. Julian answers questions and John emphatically does not want to know his place for certain.

Julian’s about to say something when Rasher reaches out and pulls him back.

“You’ll know where to find me when you’re ready.” Julian says instead.

“Keys.” John states, holding out his hand.

Julian drops the keys into his waiting palm.

 

 

John waits for Julian to pull Rasher out of the room before he stands and goes outside.

There’s his Harley, black and shiny just like Julian hadn’t taken it and brought back problems.

He knows his bike and three blocks out, he can’t stand it anymore. Julian didn’t  _do_ anything to it but the engine was already hot. He can’t have Julian’s heat between his legs, not when he’s thinking about Rasher against Julian’s back like Julian was against his.

He ditches the bike in the shadow of a ruined stoop. Tomorrow-John can come get it and anyway, he could stretch his legs a little. Think a little on the problem without thinking of Julian between his legs.

 

 

When he gets back, sweat prickling his back from the sun, he does not find them where he expects. It sets him off again that they’d be anywhere but where Julian implied, and that he’d think so low of Julian to think he’d be in John’s quarters.

They’ve taken over a table on the main floor of The Nest. It looks kinda like the table John co-opted for the mill project- maps and notebooks and lists. Rasher must have brought all that with him- why? And they’re bent together over Julian’s notebook, heads nearly touching.

He sits across the table from them. “Do you know when you’re leaving?”

Rasher gives him a cagey look, but it’s Julian who speaks. “Rasher says the conditions should be optimal for the portal to open again in a couple of days.”

A couple of days. That’s so long, and nothing at all.

“So what’s this?” John gestures at the mess on the tabletop.

Julian scowls. “My damn job come to get me for up and disappearing on it.”

“Well, enjoy.”  John says. There’s something so prosaic about it. They’d played house as a joke; ground so unsteady under John’s feet that he’d run from the shocks. Pretending, after that, that everything is fine. They return to work and Julian at least, isn’t fucked up about it; steady and secure with his man by his side in spite of the wrench he’d thrown through John’s very sense of self.

Julian snatches his wrist. “Stay.”

“You’re busy.” John demurres, implying that he himself is too.

Julian winks. “No more than you.”

“Really.”

Rasher is watching him. Steady, curious, hungry.

“Whatchya looking at?” John demands.

Julian grins. Rasher, brazenly honest, says, “Your face and your tits.”

John reflexively looks down at himself, like he’d spilled something.

Julian drags his fingers over John’s hand, opening his fingers up and stroking his palm.

“Okay.”

Julian elbows Rasher. “Say it.”

“I hate you, Boss.”

John doesn’t know how, but he can hear the  _sir_ hiding behind  _boss_ .

“I want you-” Rasher looks hard at John- “and _him_ to fuck me. At the same time.”

Julian’s smug grin is growing as fast as John’s blush. "Told you so!"

“You bring your boyfriend here, and ask me to fuck him.” John says, flat. They talked about this, and now it’s happening. He hadn’t honestly thought it would be an eventuality. Too wrapped up in Julian to think about other people.

“He fell through, just like me.” Julian smirks. “This is just a delightful opportunity.”

“Sure.” John says, and walks away.

 

 

“John.” Lyle says.

“Lyle.” John says.

“ _Bro_.” Lyle says. He means ‘ come with me’, so John follows him into the sheltered area of the bus. This means they’re having a  _discussion._

They’ve been giving each other a bit more space than usual, and who is John to desperately cling to a relationship? 

John does not want to have this discussion. He’s been feeling itchy all day, like people have been looking at him and he really wants to fuck off by himself for a while. But he can’t quite go awol while his  _guests_ are around, can he.

“What’s up?”

“The freak parade has a new member.” Lyle says.

John waits for it.

“Your lesson stuck.”

John sighs. Letting Lyle obfuscate for a while is important and sometimes revealing, but the empty sands of the coastline are calling John’s name. “You wanna tell me what actually happened?”

“ _Overheard_ , of course.” Lyle says. “But someone said that loud enough for Rasher to hear, and _Julian_ stopped Rasher from killing him.”

John raises both eyebrows. “Overheard.”

“You know that collar he wears? Julian grabbed it like he was a misbehaving dog!” Lyle hisses. “There’s something wrong with them, bro. You better be careful.”

“Yeah, and everyone here loves me for my soft and cuddly demeanor. I’ll be fine.”

“Heeled him like a  _dog_ , John. Like a  _dog_.” Lyle sounds distressed.

“Mm. So that’s why people have been looking at me weird.” Trying to figure out where John fits into that. What his play is. What the betting boards will carry that night.

“Sure.” Lyle shrugs. “Thought you should know.”

“Thanks. I think.” John stretches, looking out over the sparse crowd in the street. The sun is setting at a harsh angle, burning through the streets and driving everyone indoors despite dusk usually being the second best time for doing things in the muggy summer heat.

Truly, Julian belongs with Rasher and John belongs over at the mill. There’s an order in the world, but perhaps not his and he’s meddling against god with this. Maybe he cares a little too much.

The betting boards will stay empty.


	2. Chapter 2

Night falls and with it comes John’s discontent, magnified by the thin moonlight and the ghostly sticky feeling of candle wax on his hands. His bed is empty and his heart feels choked with his own foolishness. To get attached- he  _knew_ Julian would leave. It’s been a given since the beginning. And Julian is not gone, but he’s  _gone_ . Hundred feet away and untouchable. 

_You’ll know where to find me_ .

Yeah. John knows where to find Julian, but Julian is a package deal now. And the package is dangerous and wants to fuck. So the question is, he guesses, is how much he wants it. Whatever it is.

To extend the fantasy that he has anything other than blood and bread flour in his future.

Hell.

He rolls out of bed, feeling far more awake and inside his skin than he really wants. The night air is cool on his chest and for once it feels good instead of clammy so he stays shirtless as he heads out to pace. His walk earlier hadn’t been as productive as he wanted, and anyway, the time limit is ticking.

He’s always been reckless under pressure.

 

 

Unbidden, his pacing takes him around to the prop room. There’s light crawling out from under the door like it’s not certain that it’s allowed to leave. He stands outside the door, listening to the unintelligible voices from within until he feels disgusting. Only _then_ he knocks.

Julian’s voice comes quick and suspicious. “Who is it?”

“John.”

There’s a pause in which the surreality of having to identify himself to his lover threatens to drown him, and here’s his chance to run. He doesn’t  _need_ to see-

“Come in!”

He opens the door and steps inside. The masks hung up around the walls of the narrow room stare down at him with shadowed and watchful eyes. Underneath, Julian reclines regally with one arm casually possessive around Rasher who is is across his lap like a busty chick. Something about the flickering dimness and off color light reminds John of the covers on the pulp books he used to read; a savage king with a trophy girl, implied nudity and decadence and perversions.

The eye sockets of the skull tattooed on Rasher’s forehead give him four eyes, or maybe pits carved into his skull, when he looks at John. “Don’t just stand there.”

The room is lit like the rest of The Nest is after dark- a couple of candles, just enough to see by. But something’s off here and the light feels red and gritty. It’s making Rasher’s lips look bruised, like he’d been hit or he’d been- and Julian is actually bruised, marks like wine going black on his neck and collarbones. And still, he looks regal. A dirty pulp novella cover, indeed.

John says, “I’m interrupting. I should- go.”

He can see  Rasher’s  dick rising up between his legs and he doesn’t want to see that.

“Stay.” Julian says, voice low and rough. “Come here.”

John feels like he’s stepping into a dream but not his own dream. No, this is someone else’s, and he’s closed the door behind him. Like a dream: can’t go back, only forward into the red light.

“Good.” Julian approves. He tilts his head to Rasher to say something, probably, but Rasher kisses him hard enough that his hand rises to the back of Rasher’s head.

John feels like he’s stretching, his consciousness larger than his body and irrevocably tethered to it. He’s hyper aware of Rasher’s nakedness, and then of Julian’s when Rasher rolls out of Julian’s lap, and then of his own worn-thin sweatpants hanging low on his hips.

There’s something objectively wrong with Rasher moving to make room for him like that. Like he’s letting John  replace him , some symbolic bullshit. But inside, he is perversely ecstatic with it.

Julian beckons him and he comes in heavy, pushing against him. Claiming. Challenging.  _This_ is what he wanted: heat and arousal and Julian feisty underneath him. Julian is pushing up against him,  _greedy_ , hands on John’s sides and hips.

He’s almost able to lose himself in the feeling until a hand brushes his hair back and it’s  _not_ Julian and he twitches for reasons unrelated to Julian playing with his nipples.

“Hey-” John says.

Rasher grins quick and sharp, making the universal  _carry on_ gesture.

John does but so does Rasher, exploring him with delicate touches and long strokes over his shoulders and sides and flanks. It’s unsettling how detached Rasher seems to be compared to the live wire man under him and John gets the feeling that Julian knows and is laughing at him about it.

But the extra hands on him are doing something, winding him up, winding over sensitive places like Rasher knows exactly where they are and soon enough he’s pressing into the touches and Julian is encouraging him right into Rasher’s hands with clever touches.

Before he knows it, before he understands what’s happening, Julian has passed him to Rasher and he’s nose to nose with the man.

The kiss he gets is unsettlingly gentle, especially contrasted with Julian’s urgency against his back. He expected, he doesn’t know what he expected, but he’ll take this overwhelmed, the intense physicality in place of anything else he could need.

He shuts his eyes and kisses Rasher. It’s nothing like kissing Julian but he might was well fling himself into the abyss.

As soon as he puts his hands on Rasher, Rasher makes a soft keening sound. There’s something that seems fragile with how thin he is under John’s hands, but his strength when he pulls John against him leaves no illusions.

Leaves no illusion about Rasher’s intentions, either, as his cock slides up against John’s hip and he makes a desperate sound into John’s shoulder.

John wants to recoil from it and press against it and between Rasher and Julian he can’t move much at all so he digs his fingers into Rasher’s back until Rasher groans.

And then Julian’s hands are skimming down his body, right into his sweatpants and belatedly John realizes that Julian’s trying to get him naked and that he should help but Rasher’s kissing along his collarbones and he’s incapacitated.

Julian pulls his sweats off anyway and immediately Rasher’s hand is on his dick, feeling him out. Up.

“Oh.” John says faintly. Then, strongly. “Fuck.”

Rasher’s stroking their dicks together and John is shaking slightly and Julian is for no comprehensible reason sitting by his head and not touching either of them. He looks down the little space between their bodies, past the tattooed snake on Rasher’s belly that squirms as he breathes, to Rasher’s long tattooed fingers squeezing them together. John was aware  _before_ of the ring through Rasher’s dick, but now he’s really appreciating the size of it, that it’s stretched his hole and distorted the shape of his dick with another hole and he can’t wrap his mind around it so he reaches down and touches the ring and then his finger slips off the blood-hot metal onto Rasher’s dick.

Rasher stops stroking, mumbling. “You’re so fucking cute.”

“He is, in’t he?” Julian sounds smug, like he had anything to do with it, and a little breathless.

“Shut up.” John huffs. The other two snicker.

He slides his finger down the crevice between their dicks and Rasher lets him explore his piercings like John’s never touched a dick before.

“Ah, fuck, John.” Rasher bites his tongue, a different sort of shy than when Julian made him say what he wanted. Red, wet, obscene. “I wanna suck your dick.”

“Uh.” John dithers, distracted by Rasher trapping his hand around their dicks.

“Say yes!” Julian suggests brightly. “I want to watch!”

“Julian, shut up.” Rasher replies offhand, not even glancing at him.

“I-” John tries, not sure where he’s going with it.

Rasher gives him a conspiratorial look and John shuts up too. “Howzabout I suck you off, you suck me off, and we let him stew in how much we’re ignoring him?”

“I can  _hear_ you.” Julian interjects.

“I know, honey.” Rasher says, clearly ignoring Julian.

John blinks. “…the same time?”

“Sure, if you think you can handle it.” Rasher smirks.

He must look uncertain because Rasher squeezes his hand, and by proxy, their dicks. “Shhh, I know it’s your first time-” Julian coughs- “with _meat_ , but you’re clever. You’ll figure it out.”

John’s feeling outclassed and outplayed, like he’s got something to prove. He rocks forward to bite at Rasher’s lip.

Julian coos, “That’s the spirit.”

Rasher ignores him. “C’mon, lemme get under you.”

It takes some awkward shuffling around to get them arranged and Julian adequately kicked out of the way. And then John feels exposed, vulnerable, ass up and back to the world, dick pointing right at Rasher’s mouth and Rasher’s right under his nose. It’s  _happening_ .

Rasher wastes no time and sucks John’s dick right into his mouth. John drops, face against Rasher’s sharp hip bone, pierced dick bumping his face as he pants, back swayed to get more. “- _fuck!”_

He feels Rasher’s amusement through his dick- Rasher’s enjoying himself and John is just barely holding himself together. Like it’s his first damn time.

He pulls himself up and together and licks Rasher’s dick from head to root like he’s been dared to eat a worm and he’s not sure if he actually wants to or if he’s doing it for the thrill.

Turns out it’s both.

He explores the bars through Rasher’s dick with his tongue, taking his fucking time about it based entirely on the theory that if that if it drove the chick who had the clit ring that he ate out once crazy, it should work a  _little_ on Rasher and his seven bars. At the very least, it pulls his attention back into his head from how Rasher’s trying to suck it out through his dick.

It’s a pretty solid theory, because Rasher grips his hips sharp enough to hurt and pushes him out of his mouth. “ _Quit_ _fukkin teasing_.”

Julian snorts and John is peripherally aware of him rubbing himself off with broad flat strokes.

John buckles up his trepidation and slides Rasher’s dick into his mouth until his lips catch on the upper bar and  _sucks_ . The sound of Rasher’s head dropping back is extremely rewarding.

It’s nothing like the slick smoothness of Julian’s dick. It’s hot and soft-hard and making salt-wetness on the back of his tongue and there’s steel clicking on his teeth when he tries bobbing his head. Not a lot the same, really, except for how it opens his jaws wide and the faintly gone-off taste that Julian has too and maybe he shouldn’t think about that comparison right this very moment so he gets his hair out of his face and shuts his eyes and puts enthusiasm in place of skill.

He’s not sure which of them turned this into a competition, but it happened and he didn’t- he thought he was winning maybe from the little aborted thrusts in his mouth but then Rasher pulls his hips down and bites high inside his leg and John has to pull off or choke himself and his hair is in his mouth and  _why did he agree to be on top fuck_

Before John’s even a little recovered from the stinging bite, Rasher’s moved him again with one hand slowly, almost absently, kneading his ass while he jerks John off into his mouth. The single minded intensity Rasher is applying with his hand has John knowing he’s not gonna  _last_ and unable to think anything else. He’s trying to get Rasher’s dick back in his mouth but Rasher’s letting him push further into his mouth and that takes priority so quickly and then he’s coming in a big rush as Rasher swallows around him.

He rolls half off and lays there limp, chest heaving, panting wet and ragged.

Rasher’s looking smug as hell, propped up on his elbows and his face slick. “Gonna finish me off?”

John makes a vaguely assenting sound but instead hauls himself far enough away that he’s not at risk of taking a knee to the face.

“Hey, Julian~” Rasher purrs, seductive somewhere in the realm of mockery.

“Oh,  _now_ you want me.” Julian sniffs.

Rasher’s about to say something when John hauls himself up on Julian and pulls them both down across Rasher’s hips.

“Holy  _shit_.” Rasher whispers reverently, like he’s just gone to his idea of heaven.

Julian grabs his dick and licks and Rasher’s eyes roll back to shut when John noses in and licks too. Rasher reaches down and blindly fumbles John’s head before he finds Julian and pulls his hair. John feels goddamn useless for a moment before he realizes that he can reach where Julian can’t- and devotes himself to being a relentless tease.

Every time Rasher blinks his eyes open and sees both of them on him, his moans hitch off into a little sob like he’s forgotten how to breathe for a moment.

“Oh,  _fuck_ \- Julian.”

And Julian makes this low raspy sound that John can feel through where their bodies touch and Rasher is shaking apart under their hands and mouths like he’ll never be put back together. When Julian pulls back, he sees a streak of cum across his cheek- he dips in to lick it off and Rasher keens, trying to pet them both and then Julian kisses him, shoving all of Rasher’s cum into his mouth and John swallows, startled and feels like he’s falling backwards out of his body so he grabs Julian and pulls him over with him in a tangle.

Rasher murmurs, softly, dazed, “You two are so fucking incredible.”

“I know!” Julian chirps. “Get me off.”

And Rasher looks _fond_ and John feels like an outsider again but he realizes- he rolls onto his back because _hell_ if he’s getting that much of his own hair in his mouth again. He sticks his tongue out, “Hey Julian-”

“Oh,  _fuck yes_ .” Rasher grins because this is the night that just keeps on giving to him.

Julian grins, bright and sharp. “Make me quick.”

John draws him in to his mouth with fingers hooked hard on his perineum, trying to grip through how wet he is and nearly failing. Then Julian is rocking against his face and his jaw aches from earlier and he’s pushing his fingers hard like he’s fucking into Julian and it’s not long before Julian stutters and groans over John.

In a minute, Julian curls up between them and they curl up around him in a sated and very sweaty pile until Julian decides it’s too gross and makes them all wash up.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Is it later yet?” Rasher says obnoxiously.  
> “Are we there yet?” John mimics obnoxiously.

Dawn doesn’t come in the windowless prop room and John wakes up in a startle, over-hot and internal clock wailing about the missing sunlight. He sits there, eyes empty in the dark, calming himself down from the startle and the fragmented dreams until Rasher sticks out an arm and finds John and hazily murmurs. “Stay-”

John wonders who Rasher’s holding in his mind as he curls back down because Rasher doesn’t seem  _awake_.

He’d seen them together last night; the assured pettiness of two people confident in each other. And he  _aches_ with it. To have that confidence for more than an evening, to not lose it over time- he sighs as Julian tucks an arm over him. He doesn’t know everything about them, now does he?

But he can’t sleep again.

 

 

He’d missed tending his bread starter yesterday and it had grown large and weak. He’s about to divide it into the new starter and the levain and feed them when Rasher wanders into the kitchen. Without Julian.

Rasher looks overdressed for the occasion- John’s in his tank and sweatpants, but Rasher’s in everything he arrived in from jacket and corset to his boots. It makes him look hunched, like he’s afraid of something. A far cry from last night when he seemed  completely comfortable to be naked except for his collar.

“Don’t you have any normal people clothes?” John says instead of greeting him.

Rasher grimaces. “These are my normal clothes.”

“That must get-” John gestures, mostly at the corset- “uncomfortable.”

“Now that I have internal organs again, yeah, a little.” Rasher says. “But I don’t trust your guys and if I’m gonna get knifed, I’d rather it go through my armor.”

“Blunt.” John remarks as he finishes with the bread starter.

Rasher shrugs. “Julian is cryptic enough for both of us.”

“Does he lie to you?” John asks as he fishes out the skillet to make breakfast.

“Do you think you’re special?” Rasher snips back at him, watching as he works.

“I’d hoped.” John says sullenly. “So does he?”

“Sure he does. He lies to everybody. He makes a little world for you to live in and if you’re very clever, you can see the edges of it. I’m in one.” Rasher says. “You’re in one. He’s in at least one.”

“Can he see the edges?”

“He’s god made manifest. Who am I to understand his intentions?” Rasher says very seriously, before grinning widely.

“Bullshit.” John says. “I thought he was just saying shit.”

“He’s always saying shit.” Rasher shrugs. “Most of it is even a little true.”

“Is that what what happened to your internal organs?”

“How much did he tell you about me?”

John shrugs. “He called you his executioner.”

“Something like that.” Rasher snorts, amused. “Fuck, it’s weird meeting someone who doesn’t already know what I am and isn’t trying to kill me.”

“Uhhhh.” John says, not dealing with that statement. “You thinks Julian’s gonna make it down by the time the food is ready?”

“I’ll eat his food if he doesn’t, and he knows that.” Rasher smirks.

“So what are you?” John cracks the last egg into the pan.

“Tentacle monster. Renowned cannibal. Plot device. Hunting dog.” Rasher shoves his hands in his jacket pockets. “More unsavory things, depending on who you ask.”

John stands there, spatula in hand, and stares at him as the eggs burn around the edges. His first gang had been real a rough bunch and he’s seen and done some awful shit, but all rumors of cannibalism from fringe groups had gone unsubstantiated. He’d checked.

“So that’s the edge of the world he put me in.” John flips the eggs even though he’s not really sure he’s hungry anymore. “My dick was in your mouth.”

Rasher slouches as much as the corset lets him. “I don’t eat everyone I meet, fucking obviously.” 

“So who do you eat?”

“Mostly people Julian doesn’t like, these days.” Rasher sounds a little morose. John is resolutely not gonna ask about that. “Don’t worry, he likes you.”

“I hadn’t guessed.” John says dryly.

Rasher huffs but doesn’t say anything in reply, and the silence stretches. John thinks of asking _why_ and how they met, actually, but he’s too close to the problem. The food is about done. “You know I’m in this for him, right?”

There’s the faint rattle of Rasher moving around. “Yeah. I’m in this for you and him being hot as fuck together.”

Rasher is right behind him, almost touching him. John can feel him all over his back, against his butt, in his hair. He can smell him now, stronger than last night, that strange undercurrent of rust and rot that Julian had when he first arrived. “Gee, thanks, that’s fucking creepy dude.”

“I try.” Rasher murmurs into his hair. “And I’m in this for, hopefully, you and him fucking me together.”

Rasher may be slight but his height gives him an undeniable presence that is _still_ almost touching him. “What did I _just_ say about being creepy?”

Rasher huffs and noses into his hair.

John shoves him back, sending him staggering.

Rasher laughs, amused. “You and him might be from different worlds, but your mannerisms. I can’t-” He shakes his head- “Messes with my head.”

“Messes with my head, all your weirdness about me looking like him.” John says as he plates up breakfast with Julian’s and Rasher’s together like he said.

Rasher gratefully accepts the plate. “What, like you’ve never thought about fucking yourself?”

“Okay,” John concedes, “but he’s not me.”

“Sure, but you’re close enough for my fantasy.”

“Shut up and eat.” John suggests.

Rasher raises his fork. “Cheers.”

“Are we talking about me?” Julian asks, appearing as if from the woodwork.

“No.” Rasher says insolently. John decides letting that lie is the better part of having a good time.

“Hm. Gimme that.” Julian nabs at Rasher’s plate and it briefly turns into a strikingly fluid and well balanced play fight before Rasher emerges victorious. “What are you doing today?”

“Mill house or being subjected to your mercurial will, depending.”

“I have a suggestion, Boss.”

“I know you do, Rasher.”

Rasher looks smug. John looks at him askance. “I know the suggestion is ‘let’s all fuck’ but since I’m not part of your hive mind thing, either of you wanna tell me the details?”

“Aw come on, it’s a surprise!”

John puts his plate down so he can go invade Rasher’s space, using his relative bulk to loom over him. “Don’t think I like surprises from you.”

Rasher abandons his plate to Julian’s unmerciful appetites and leans up into the invasion with a smirk. “For you, my surprises will be very nice.”

“Fuck you.” John gently pushes him back down and Rasher dramatically falls back.

“ _Y_ _ eah _ , fuck me.” Rasher purrs.

“Maybe later.” John says, retreating from the game he started. He’s not sure if that was a blunder or foreplay. He’s not sure what he wants it to be. “Maybe later.”

 

 

"Ever done this before?” Rasher inquires  conversationally .

“What is it about me that screams ‘has never had buttsex before’?”

“I dunno, the cross tattooed in the center of your chest and the archangels on your arms?”

“I don’t have to take this from a guy with an ibex skull tattooed on his forehead but doesn’t cut his hair to show off the horns properly.” Johns continues more quietly. “I was eighteen and at least they aren’t shit.”

Rasher turns the full force on an eyeroll on him.

“Fine, girls like that I was a bad boy.” Excuses, John. Excuses.

Rasher turns to Julian. “Holy shit, you _told_ me he was straight, but I had _no idea_.”

John flicks Rasher’s ear and is then immediately nervous about being so casual. “Shut up.”

Rasher rolls over and sticks his head in John’s lap to nuzzle at his crotch with casual familiarity. It’s reassuring and gives John the weird feeling that he uses this to get his way with Julian.

He grabs Rasher’s ponytail and pulls his head back. “Seriously, what is it?”

“Do you keep delaying because you’re afraid of being bad at buttsex?”

Julian snorts, entertained by their bickering. “I was going to break him in but you showed up too soon.”

“Oh _my_ bad.” Rasher quips. “Answer me, John.”

“Got me in one; I’m afraid.”

“A hole’s a hole.” Rasher says to John’s hip. “Ain’t that complicated.”

“It’s been four, five weeks since I last fucked your ass.” Julian says evenly. “A hole is not a hole.”

Still into John’s hip, Rasher replies sullenly. “I keep in practice.”

“You’re full of shit.” Julian knowingly informs him.

“I am  _not._ ” Rasher insists.

“Good.” John interjects.

“You’ll be using a condom anyway.” Rasher mutters. “I use them when I fuck him, he sometimes uses them when he fucks me.”

“Wha-” John says, overturned with information.

“What are you, boring?” Rasher snarks.

“Okay.” John raises both hands. “That wasn’t what I was saying, but okay.” He has no idea what he was saying. Also Rasher just being on his dick while they’re bantering is starting to have an effect and he’s not sure about that specific feeling.

He looks over a Julian who is both lounging and watching closely. “Is he always like this?”

“Often enough.” Julian is amused.

Rasher mouths over his dick as John speaks. “How do you get anything done?”

“I make him do the work.” Julian grins. “Or I tie him down until he gets creative. You’re a clever boy, aren’t you Rasher?”

“He’s lying. He’s the distracting one.” Rasher complains as he rolls over to look up at him. “You’re so _easy,_ John.”

“I feel like I should be insulted.”

“You can be, if you want.” Rasher grins lazily.

“Hey Rasher, shut up and kiss him.” Julian suggests. Julian’s got this intensity to him, sharpness in his eyes and the way he breathes and even though his posture is relaxed, there’s a keen attentiveness behind it.

Rasher rucks John’s shirt up and blows a raspberry on his belly.

Startled, John laughs and swats at him.

Rasher nuzzles along his hip bone, leaving a trail of tiny licks down to his belt. “ _Oh_.”

Julian is just barely restraining his glee and John decides he’s just gonna fucking relax about the whole thing. Still, he avoids the edge of Rasher’s corset, instead placing his hands high on his back. The black lines of the backpiece he hadn’t gotten a look at in last night’s dim light sprawl out under his hands and under the corset. He also notices a myriad slender sliver scars like stretch marks, all of them in weird places- wrapping around his ribs, under his arms, and along his spine.

Rasher nuzzles his dick again and he’s not hard but he’s got a thickness happening and Rasher’s got two fingers slipped through the frayed bullet hole in the thigh of his jeans like he’s fingering it.

He pets the back of Rasher’s head, his back, a little stretch down to grab what little ass the man has.

Rasher moans, breath seeping hot through his jeans. Or maybe that’s just John getting hot.

John kneads his ass and Rasher is so responsive that he wonders if he’s faking it. And then decides it’s not his problem if Rasher wants to be over the top about it.

He grabs and pulls. Julian gives him an approving look and John feels weirdly like he’s being coached and he doesn’t like that at all.

“You gonna-” Rasher’s voice is reedier than normal- “follow through on that?”

“Sure.” He laughs. “Hole’s a hole, right?”

Julian moves from the grubby armchair from which he’s been observing the proceedings to grab Rasher’s backpack from and bring it with him to the bed. John gives him a questioning look but Julian ignores him in favor of undoing the closures on Rasher’s corset until Rasher can wriggle out like a bug leaving its carapace behind. Now John sees the full expanse of Rasher’s backpiece for the first time. A bulls skull, dripping in ivy with stems of wheat and grapes woven in. It seems awfully agrarian for a cannibal but what does John know? He rubs a hand down the scarred nubs of Rasher’s spine and Rasher elongates like a cat.

And then he rolls over, affronting John with the coiled snake tattooed on his belly, and shoves his pants down.

Julian passes John a rubber glove.

“What?”

Rasher pats his thigh reassuringly as Julian puts his own glove on. “You just gonna shove a finger up his ass? No, I didn’t think so.”

Julian lubes his gloved fingers and flips Rasher’s legs open with a casual familiarity that puts a small ache in tender places under John’s ribs.

This feels like it’s moving too fast, like there should be more foreplay or something but Julian’s just slide a finger into Rasher and Rasher’s giving him a concentrating look. “S’cold.”

“Give it a minute, brat.”

“You give it a minute.”

“Hey John-” Julian prompts him to fit his hand along inside Julian’s, inside Rasher, and it’s such a strange intimacy with both of them. It’s tight, doesn’t feel right at all but Julian seems unconcerned and Rasher seems to be enjoying it despite his sass.

“I’m not a teaching model, Julian.” Rasher whines.

“But you make such a good one; all your bones on display…” Julian wiggles his gloved finger inside Rasher, right beside John’s, demonstrating.

“Only one right now-” Rasher shuts up with a grunt when John gets it just right.

Julian slides his finger out and rolls his glove off like a doctor to make it be inside out. “All yours now!”

John slides a second finger in and then Rasher is rocking backwards, trying to get more until John holds his hips still, damnit. And then he slides his fingers easily until Rasher is rocking against his curled up fingers too-

“Stop playing with me and fuck me-”

“Three.” Suggests Julian.

John does three. Rasher swears volubly with frustration.

In a moment, Julian slides a condom packet into his awareness.

John rolls the condom on.

“Ready?” Rasher grins.

John squeezes Rasher’s thigh. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“I  _been_ ready.”

John laughs, just a little nervous, and lines himself up and pushes in slowly. Rasher exhales like he’s making room in his body.

Julian’s watching him like he wants to strip him out of his skin and occupy him and frankly it’s a little creepy so he focuses on the empty eye sockets of the skull tattooed across Rasher’s forehead. They’re a little less creepy in the light.

And then he’s in to the root, panting and bracing himself over Rasher who reaches up to grab his face. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?"

It takes John a moment to collect himself enough to make a witty reply, and then he reaches down to poke his dick where it disappears inside Rasher. “Dunno, seems pretty hard to me.”

There’s a moment that’s just silence and then they all crack up.

Rasher tugs at his hair. “C’mon!”

“Impatient.”

“Of course!”

John starts moving, small thrusts and for all Julian’s been pushing him physically and emotionally, he still feels too much too quickly. He has to put his hands on Rasher, touch him to hold himself together; his hands slide over sharp hips and ribs and cooled places where Rasher’s sweating under his and Julian’s ministrations.

Rasher’s gripping his arm tight, like he doesn’t know he’s doing it or his own strength. It feels  _good_ to be wanted like that, to know that he can provide that kind of intensity even with the uncertainty scuttling around in his brain . He puts a hand on Rasher’s chest, clumsy and broad, to hold him down because it just feels good to push like that and finesse is for when he’s not rocking Rasher slightly with every thrust anyway.  Rasher’s reedy groan is hot in unanticipated and confusing ways.

Julian is moving around; John can’t tell what he’s doing and doesn’t care until he straddles Rasher’s face and Rasher stiffens and shifts under them. John has to stop for a moment until they’re all situated again and it’s agonizing, all the little unpredictable motions. And then Julian yanks him into a bruising kiss and he doesn’t have higher function, he only has sensation to chase.

Rasher’s hands have left him for Julian’s thighs and he misses the contact until Julian leans against him. The position is weird to him, it feels like he’s bending Rasher too far and he shouldn’t be this close to Julian but it feels so damn good-

Rasher locks his legs around his hips, abruptly forcing him into shorter thrusts. John wants to press Rasher back down but his hand lands on Rasher’s dick and all the metal under thin skin is still a terrible marvel to him. He gives it a stroke and Rasher makes this concerning choked sound and Julian’s growling at him  _fucking more_. He lets his thrusts rock his hand over his dick and Julian’s helping and before he knows what’s happening, Rasher’s coming through his fingers and on his dick. And then he’s coming too, balls deep and head bowed forward.

A several rapid shallow breaths later, Julian plows into him, using his disorientation to push him over backwards. It’s awkward as hell, trying to disentangle himself from Rasher with any neatness at all and not kick anyone and-

Rasher swears, cut off, reprimanding, “Julian-!”

John throws an arm up, elbow painfully colliding with Julian’s hip. “What the hell?”

Julian bends over his arm, bending down to kiss him but there’s no pretense of a kiss, it’s all bite. John yelps, pushing his hand hard against Julian’s stain and it slides from pressure on slick skin and Julian growls at him.

Rasher must have figured out how to get himself out of the bend John fucked him into because he’s risen up on his knees behind Julian. He grabs the long part of Julian’s hair and yanks his head back and bites in low on his throat like some overdramatic vampire.

John shoves again, not sure if he’s trying to get Julian off or hurt him in the moment.

Julian twitches, left side of his body kicking like a tickled dog and then he falls back against Rasher who hauls him back off of John. The bite mark is ugly, and already healing.

John grits. “What just happened?”

“Get cleaned up.” For someone who has ranged between quiet and unsettling to weirdly good natured, Rasher’s tone of command blindsides John and he  _gets_ .

 

He’s barely got himself together by the time he’s gotten the latex smell from the condom off of himself and then he can’t really procrastinate any longer on returning.

Rasher’s lying on his bed, Julian sprawled on top of him.

He wants to scream at them but there’s not one bit of use all that frustration will do now so he shoves it right down again .

Rasher mouths at him. “Sorry.”

John speaks aggressively, ignoring the quiet. “Yeah?”

Rasher sighs. “The reality is always messier than the fantasy.”

“You can keep him.”

Rasher smiles faintly, but his word is sarcastic. “ _Thanks_.”

“You’re welcome.” And then John is gone again, abandoning all of that to be a future problem.


	4. Chapter 4

John’s lip is sore from Julian’s biting and he’s looked at the mill project and his levain and the bar stock and the town rustling around outside and he can’t focus for shit on any of it. So now he’s on the bus, waiting. For what, he doesn’t know. To not be a fucking idiot, maybe. He knew what he was getting into, he’s an  _adult._

This was a fling, him leeching more from something he never had, really. Did he know, did he really.

When did a bit of fascination turn into emotions? And why did Julian- do that?

Possession.

Fuck.

And Julian said he was playing. John’s an idiot to believe him, like he was an idiot to believe any of the girls who said it was a one night stand, baby.

And think of the devil and he shall appear, boyfriend in tow.

“You’re a jackass.” He greets them conversationally.

“Thanks!” Julian quips. He’s wearing his damaged jacket and his loud trousers and his boots and everything he had when he arrived and nothing he got while he was here. Rasher’s got his backpack over one jacketed shoulder.

John wishes he were stupid enough to not know immediately what this means.

“Do you want to walk us out?”

“Well, I ain’t walking that far.” And Rasher looks relieved by his sarcastic comment.

Julian lets them stew at an impasse until John says, “-I’ll get the truck.”

 

 

The drive to the edge of the forest isn’t long but it makes up for it in awkwardness. The bench seat truck was meant for three, but not with the tallest guy in the middle. John can feel the tension on Rasher, like he wants to relax but he’s trying to keep his legs out of the way of the gear shift and anyway he twitches every time John’s hand brushes his leg.

And John doesn’t even know if whatever they’re gonna do to open the portal will even work.

Plowing through the underbrush would normally be enough to keep his mind off his problems, but so much has changed and is about to change again. Where his normal, now?

He’s gonna be _bored_ again, if this works. Other things, too, that that he wants to acknowledge less.

And then they break through into the clearing. It still smells faintly of brimstone and death despite the rain. Perhaps Rasher coming through had refreshed the stink.

“So how does this work?” John asks once they’re all stood like idiots out fetching mosquitoes in the clearing.

Rasher fumbles in his backpack until a rectangular black box emerges. It has one button. He looks like he’s gonna hand it to Julian for a split moment before thinking better of it and putting it on top of his pack on the ground.

Then he darts over to where John is still stood like an idiot, and kisses him.

Julian makes a face. “Stop being right.”

“Stop being an idiot.” Rasher snarks right back.

John manages to unfreeze himself and step further into the clearing and then Julian is kissing him quickly. Like he doesn’t want to acknowledge that this is the end.

And then he’s back next to Rasher in the center of clearing, and John is still at the edge as if trapped in a thorny bush.

Rasher picks up the box and his backpack.

“This is gonna  _suck_.” Rasher pushes the button before anyone can have any more emotions.

Nothing happens for just long enough for John to get really fucking nervous, to start seriously regretting not having his shit together enough to kiss them proper.

And then then universe tears open, the gash unraveling like red gauze made out of centipede legs. A horrible breeze pushes through, and later John will remember it as sun cooked rotting roadkill but right now he wants to retch.

Rasher looks back one last time, grabs Julian, and slings them through.

John stays, and watches. The animal part of his brain wants to flee from the smell and the aspect of it.

The portal stays open a moment, worlds joined together just long enough for him to see and hear Rasher collapse to the red dirt sand on the other side with a wounded animal scream. And then it starts weaving itself up, the opaqueness of reality keeping him from seeing anything more.

And then it’s just him in the clearing with the lingering reek of the portal and the maddening thought that the box could have opened the portal any time, anywhere. That they were playing him.

_Hell_ .

 

* * *

 

“I think this is where I say I told you so.” Lyle says understandingly.

“And then I threaten to fire you, yes.” John flaps a hand at Lyle. “Gimme.”

Lyle snatches the bottle back. “Nuh uh, future you will hate me for letting you drink the rest of this while you aren’t sober enough to appreciate it. It’s commoner swill or bed for you.”

John whines into his arm. “But my bed still smells like them.”

“Not my problem.” Lyle says comfortingly. “Besides, you’re too drunk to smell anything.”


End file.
